


Water Come to Him and Drown Him

by cridecoeur



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-28
Updated: 2006-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-20 09:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/211383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cridecoeur/pseuds/cridecoeur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius knows then that the Ministry will lose this war – they too write treatises on blood and bodies and unworth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Water Come to Him and Drown Him

( _Early morning – summer time – three boys sit on a porch swing – one on an overturned bucket_ ).

Sirius scuffs the heel of his trainer on the old brown boards. Mr. Potter built this porch in the blue and yellow haze of August, year before last – Sirius remembers the unfinished scrape of wood on skin, rasp and catch. Periwinkles grow in an empty peanut bottle on the windowsill, green leaves and red petals open ( _bright flower cunts_ ) to the sky. Mrs. Potter grows these flowers – all have bright lean bodies ( _dragon flower and hydrangea_ ); some have tentacles or magic leaves ( _spinster’s heart and aconite_ ). The dirt in the jar smells of stale July and cat piss ( _fragrant as the sweat on their tough young skin - they are unhappy_ ).

Sirius’ fingers spread across the arms of the porch swing, curl and grip – his knuckles white. He sees the blue veins of his elbow and counts the one two one two pounding of his blue blood ( _pure blood_ ) and the creak of the porch swing – similar rhythms. Remus sits beside him, a slice of pale ankle peeking out beneath his too-short cords. Distantly, he hears the frogs croaking in the Potter’s pond, _chi-rup, chi-rup._

An owl perches on the porch railing, a black-edged letter tied to its leg. _My dad_ Remus whispers and no one moves. And then, and then:

 _They’re seizing my inheritance – because I’m –_

 _(Sirius knows then that the Ministry will lose this war – they too write treatises on blood and bodies and unworth.)_

 _***_

 _  
_(Late night – starlight – a low class London flat – two boys talk on a dirty mattress)._   
_

He comes to Sirius like light on water like a ship through water but he cannot harbor him here in the red and hot and damp of summer night with the neon city lights shining through his window. Come away with me Sirius whispers into the curve of his throat, and Remus says _Uh huh alright_. The motorbike shakes beneath their bodies, and Sirius’ gloved hands shake on the handlebars ( _but not because of the heart wrenching curl unfurl of Remus’ fingers on his hips, oh no_ ).

Remus fucks Sirius in an empty field ( _among the yellow-headed dandelions_ ); his fingers leave yellow bruises on his hips, his thighs. Sirius wraps around him like one of Mrs. Potter’s climbing vines, sun-bleached and beautiful and alive. They scream.

 _(Later Remus holds a dandelion under his chin, watches the skin turn yellow and says so you love me, then – and smiles.)_

**Author's Note:**

> I told you I killed Remus' parents a few times. Time #2!


End file.
